How Can You Sleep?
by Irk The Waffle
Summary: Now an adult, Mike wishes he understood how Mal works, why he thinks and acts the way he does. But Mal's not so willing to give up those secrets.


**I've actually had this in mind for about a year now. I wanted to work on portraying a character who has perfectly understandable reasons to act the way he does, who has certainly been treated unfairly by the people he's opposed... but whose actions still can't be defended. I'd never defend anything Mal's done, especially not in the universe I've written around him, but I want him to act that way for more reasons than "because I'm evil", no matter what face he puts up. Let's see if I did it right!**

* * *

It got so _boring_ up in that tower.

What was he supposed to do? He sure as hell couldn't leave; it would ruin the point of being thrown up here in the first place. He'd just redecorated recently, so that didn't need to be done again for a while. Counting his treasures lost its appeal long ago, when he had to admit to himself that he didn't do anything to earn them. (Not that he didn't deserve them, of course, but it was the principle of the thing. What good is taking if no one is losing in the process?) Even sitting and dwelling on fantasies, on the things he could do if he could leave this tower and experience life on the outside again, had lost its appeal for the day.

For now, Mal paced. Around and around the circular room he went, occasionally reversing direction just to spice things up. His chains had been lengthened years ago; how strange of Mike to allow something so merciful. They still dug into his ankles and wrists like a bitch, but now he could go anywhere in this room that he wanted, as small and sparse as it was. At least he had full control over it, and could make it contain anything he wanted.

Except the door and window. Nothing he did could impact the door and window. They remained completely, infuriatingly locked.

Mal paused at the window, gripped the sill, and pressed his forehead against the bars, grumbling at his predicament. He'd been up here for years, so shouldn't he be used to this by now? Unfortunately not. He couldn't see much out the window, since his tower was situated well out of sight of everyone else's personal areas. That was by his own choice over a decade ago, so admittedly, the lack of a view was his fault. But what would he have seen to alleviate his boredom, anyway?

Clouds floated by above the window, displaying images and playing sounds that reflected the thoughts of the others in here. A gym loaded with weights large enough for a showoff, a desert teeming with creatures with far too many teeth, a black and white room that played jazz music, a red-haired woman uttering comforting, meaningless words... Mal never lost contact with the others' thoughts, for better or for worse. He'd take a look at them sometimes to try to get some news about what the body had been through recently. It's how he knew that Mike was now married to that same stupid girl he'd been dating since they were teenagers, or that Manitoba's current hobbies seemed to include arguing with a woman who had actually lived in Australia about her own home country. None of this news meant anything to him, though. It was all stupid little vignettes that belonged to the body he called his own, but that meant absolutely nothing to him.

His own thoughts used to reside in the mind's sky, generally words of rage directed toward Mike or images of sadism aimed at no one specific, mixed in with the occasional traumatic memory of the kind that everyone else would let slip every once in a while. Judging by the cloud's patterns, his contributions were generally followed by a distressing trip to the psychiatrist a few days later. That, or Mike battering himself for being capable of having some of the fantasies Mal showed off. The latter was always a pretty fun show, one of the few things Mal enjoyed watching out there. But even that hadn't appeared recently. It'd been some time since he saw any of his own thoughts in the swirl. Was Mike blocking him out? Could he do that? There didn't seem to be another explanation...

"Fuck you, Mike!" Mal shouted out the window. "I fucking hate you, you hear me?! Everyone does! Everyone thinks you're a worthless freak! Why don't you go kill yourself and let someone else have the body for once?!"

No cloud formed to hold Mal's words and carry it to everyone else. No one paid any attention.

" _Fuck you!_ " Mal screamed again, not so much at Mike as at everything as a concept. He gripped the bars of the window and pulled, hoping to yank them free with the sheer force of his anger, but when that didn't work, he pushed himself back with them and turned around.

The door. He always tried the door. He'd try again. With his fingers gripping the knob, he tugged and twisted with all the force he could muster, but he may as well have had Chester's strength for all the good it did. He roared as a wall of flame sprung up between him and the door, close enough that a normal door would ignite and burn away within seconds.

This one didn't.

" _Fuck you!_ " He continued screaming, as if shredding his throat raw would get him out of this. "This is all your fault! We'd all be better off if you just _died!_ "

Mal panted through his teeth as the flame flickered away, trying his damnedest to calm down. There was no point in all this rage, right? It was just a waste of energy, right? It never got him anywhere before, so there was no point in it now, right?

" ** _Fuck you_!** _"_ The rage was pointless, a waste of time, but it still erupted out, as if he had no choice in the matter. "Fuck you, fuck you, _fuck-_ "

Mal's eyes widened as the doorknob turned for the first time in years. Did his sheer force of will finally pay off? Could he finally leave this wretched place, finally remember what it was like to have flesh and bone, finally make up for lost time-

His face immediately fell as the door swung open and revealed Mike standing out in the hallway. He'd changed considerably since the last time Mal had to pose as him. His body had filled out somewhat; "buff" would still be far too generous to describe his current body type, but at least now his proportions were more appropriate for a human being than a lamp post. He wore a button-up shirt and slacks that would be more likely to get him accepted in an office job than his usual t-shirts, and his new widened frame prevented the clothes from sloppily hanging off of him like they used to. His hair still stuck up in every direction, but some work with a pair of scissors made the spikes it formed less drastic. A plain, silver ring adorned his right hand, the symbol of a married man. He looked more professional now, more mature. The teenage brat Mal used to torment had actually grown into a respectable adult. Even if Mal had seen him change over the course of years through the brain clouds, this was the first time he'd seen Mike in person like this, and the change was rather jarring.

He somehow became a functioning adult, without all the hell he'd seen holding him back permanently. Compared to Mal's own situation, this seemed to be a horrid miscarriage of justice.

"Erm... hey," Mike said, brushing his hair back with one hand as he stared at the wall to his side.

Fuck, Mike couldn't even meet his eyes! Mal balled his hands into tight fists, unsure why that pissed him off so much.

"So, it's... it's been a while," Mike said, still not looking. "You haven't changed, though. You still look like I remember..."

"What do _you_ want?" Mal asked. "How did you even get in here? This is my tower. My space. No one else should be able to get in if I'm here and don't want company. Which I don't. Ever."

"I'm the owner of the system," Mike said. "I can go wherever I want."

Mal groaned. "Of course you can. So you can lock me up in here, but you can't even offer me some privacy?"

"I just want to talk," Mike said.

"Ooh, goody," Mal said. "That makes me _so_ glad you're here, so we can talk about our feelings and apologize and maybe hug it out..." Sarcasm dripped so thickly from every syllable that Mal expected Mike to be able to see it physically.

"Mal, please. I'm serious. I want us to talk."

"And I don't. Would you get out of my tower already? I was busy being bored out of my skull, and I'd rather be doing that than saying another word to you."

"Mal-" Mike stepped forward with his hand out, but Mal called forth his flaming pillar once more, hiding Mike from view.

"You think you can try to ignore me for goddamn _years,_ then suddenly come up here and try to make friends?" Mal snapped. "Fuck off!"

"I want to help-"

" _I said fuck off!_ " Mal said, balling his fists again, tempted to reach right through the flames and punch Mike in his smug, self-important face. He thought he could just barge in here and demand a conversation? Who did he think he was?! "If you want to help you'll _fuck off_!"

"...okay. I understand. I'll try again later."

"Like hell you will! Stay out of my tower! I never want to see you again, you hear me?! Just go _die_ , like I've been asking you to for _years!_ " Mal called over the sound of footsteps and a creaking door. His entire body shook with rage, causing his chains to send a metal rattling throughout the room. Soon, his flaming pillar collapsed, allowing him to see that his room was once more empty, his door once more shut. He tried the knob again, only to find that Mike had locked it behind him. With another swear, he collapsed in his throne and repeatedly clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to work out some tension. The best thing for stress relief in the moment would have been punching Mike in the kidneys, but that window of opportunity just closed.

Part of him did wonder what Mike wanted so badly that he came up here willingly, but he instantly set to shaking off that curiosity.

It didn't matter. Mike didn't matter. Mike would never, ever matter.

* * *

Following the passage of time wasn't an easy task when trapped in the subconscious. It wasn't as if there was a sun to follow, and the lack of physical need meant that Mal only slept to get past events or emotions he didn't want to deal with, not because he had to. The best method he had was tracking the brain clouds and telling the time of day by the ones that seemed newest, and telling how many days had passed by counting memories of people waking up or going to sleep. Mal's best guess was that about two weeks had passed since Mike's first visit, and that he'd come by every day since. At first Mal reacted with shouting and threats before putting up his wall, but by now it reached a point where the wall went up the second the knob turned, and Mal only stood there silently, waiting for the intruder to leave. Even Mike didn't speak during those last few visits. He only stood and waited for an answer from Mal, and when he didn't get it, turned around and walked away without a word. It'd been a few days since Mal had actually seen Mike, since he'd grown so accustomed to putting up the barrier the second the door began to open. He only really knew who kept coming up here because Mike was the only one who would, or _could,_ enter this room. Tense with the idea that the door would open any moment, Mal focused on the brain clouds in a last ditch attempt at distraction. Outside now, it was mid-afternoon, with Mike just walking out of his doctor's office. Judging by the clouds, he was still there several times a week, and there were still daily images of the body's more responsible residents taking various pills from prescription bottles. Mal smirked with a bit of victory; looked like Mike wasn't handling adult life so well after all, if he still needed all this.

Mal's sense of victory, however, was quickly interrupted by the sound of the door opening again. His chains clanked as he whipped around to see Mike standing in his doorway, scratching the back of his neck and staring at the door frame. Mal instantly threw his barrier up again, annoyed that his reaction time didn't save him from having to even glimpse at Mike's face this time. He stood in silence, waiting for Mike to give up, but the footsteps and the gentle shutting of the door never came.

Mal was the first to break the silence. "Why do you keep doing this?! I thought I told you not to come back!"

"Can't we talk?" Mike said. "I need to do this."

"What could talking to me possibly do for you?" Mal said. "Clearly you've been doing all right without listening to me all this time."

"My therapist said-"

"That's why you're here? To play shrink? To try to fix me?"

"I just want to talk. That's all. No fixing."

Mal waited a bit longer, waited for the silence to send Mike out again. Still not hearing the sounds of Mike getting the hell out, Mal dismissed his barrier. Mike was staring absentmindedly at the wall, but immediately noticed the flames were gone. He looked up and locked eyes with Mal, something he rarely had the courage to do. Mal stepped back from the gaze, a scowl on his face.

"Are you going to keep coming back here until I let you get whatever the hell this is about over with?"

Mike didn't speak. He only offered a small smile and a nod.

"Ugh. Fine," Mal said with a roll of his eyes. He couldn't keep doing this every day for the rest of eternity. Best to appease the bastard and move on with his life. "If it means you'll go away. Go on, speak up."

"Um... first... can I have a chair? This might take a while."

Without a word, Mal snapped his fingers, and a chair with thin spikes jutting out from the seat appeared across from his throne. Mal sat upon his throne, still watching Mike. "Go on, have a seat."

"Mal." Mike's scold offered no tolerance for jokes.

"Get a sense of humor, would you?" Mal asked. He snapped his fingers again, and the spikes retracted into the chair, now guarding the bottom of the seat from contact instead of the top. Mike warily lowered himself into the seat, apparently fearful that they'd shoot back out the second he sat down. "So, both of us sitting across from each other," Mal said. "Just like the shrink's office. God, I haven't done this since juvy. Bit of a nostalgia trip."

"My current therapist has seen you, hasn't she?" Mike asked.

"Yeah, but with a lot less sitting around and talking. Instead she got me screaming obscenities and throwing things at her." Mal tried his best to smile, to focus more on that doctor's discomfort than on what led to that meltdown in the first place. "She hated me. Wish I could see her again. Her shouting was pretty funny."

"That's kind of what I want to talk to you about..." Mike said. He looked off to the side once more and nervously fiddled with his wedding band.

"Then spit it out," Mal said. "I don't have- well, I do have all day, actually. Not like I can do anything _else_ up here in this tower... talking to you is the most exciting thing I've done in a long time. Sad, huh?" When Mike remained stoic in the face of his insults, Mal continued on. "But I'm sure you've got a life to get back to. You know, with a wife, a career, a brat of your own to take care of... you're actually accomplishing things out there. Don't let me keep you from your _fascinating_ existence."

"I guess what I wanted to ask you is... why," Mike said.

"Why?"

"Why."

"Because," Mal said simply. "Is that all you have to say?" The other man offered nothing but silence. "Some elaboration would be helpful."

"There's just... there's a _lot_ I want to know," Mike said. "It's hard to decide where to begin."

"Think you could prepare better before wasting my time?"

"I guess I didn't expect to get this far. Not this soon, anyway." He finally turned to face Mal again, but the confidence he displayed mere minutes ago had all drained away. Mal leaned forward, and smirked internally as Mike reflexively slid his chair back.

"You're still afraid of me," Mal observed.

"Can you blame me?" Mike asked. "I've known you for nearly twenty years now, and you've done a lot since then... that's what I want to know. Why you did some of those things."

"Name something," Mal said. "Like you said, there's a lot. So be specific."

"It started in juvy, didn't it?" Mike said. "People were terrified of us. Of me. The counselors, the guards, and especially the other inmates... you tormented all of them. Even the ones who did nothing to you. Why?"

"Just seemed fun," Mal said with a shrug. "Besides, in a place like that, it's kill or be killed. Your being such a scrawny little runt painted a target on our head. I had to lash out to remove that target, make people think twice before messing with us. But even if I didn't, I'm sure I would have had a great time making teenagers piss themselves anyway. It was a good way of passing time, and it kept them off my back. Win-win."

"Removing a target?" Mike asked. "I don't know... I've heard some things, and I don't think that's it..."

"You asked me a question and I answered it," Mal said, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. "The least you could do is believe what I tell you."

"My doctors have all said things about common ways to react after what we went through-"

"You're going to believe others over me about my own feelings?" Mal said. "They don't know what they're talking about. How could they, when they're not us and they didn't see a quarter of the shit we did? I'm telling you it was just a hobby. Let it go."

"Why are you so defensive about this?" Mike asked. "That's suspicious in itself-"

"Let it go, Mike," Mal warned. "I let you in here and I can throw you out-"

"I know we were afraid back then-"

"I wasn't afraid!" Mal snapped. "I've never been afraid!"

"It's okay that we were, anyone would be after that-"

"I _make_ people afraid! Shut up about this, shut _up-_ "

"And being afraid might have made you-"

" _I said_ _ **shut up**_ _, Mike!_ " Mal shrieked as he stood up and swung his fist in Mike's face. His fist collided with a clear barrier that Mike put up, but it didn't stop Mal from repeatedly pounding against it with both fists, screeching the entire time. " _This is my space!_ _ **Stop making things in here!**_ "

Mike flinched every time Mal punched, although the barrier showed no signs that it would ever weaken. "Mal! Please, let me help, you're my alter and I-"

" _I'm not your_ _ **anything!**_ _I don't owe you_ _ **shit!**_ " Mal stepped back far enough to let his own barrier spring up between the two. " _Get the hell out of here, and don't you ever come back! Especially not with this psychoanalysis bullshit!_ "

Mal wasn't paying enough attention to notice when Mike finally left. He just knew that by the time his energy drained and his barrier collapsed, he was alone.

Good goddamn riddance.

* * *

He hadn't seen Mike in a few days. The time to himself should have helped him calm down, helped him forget what Mike said.

It didn't. If anything, it gave him more free time to dwell on it. Afraid? Mike thought he was afraid back then? Where did he get _that_ idea? Had he shown fear or weakness? Mal ran through every single thing he could remember, all the way back to his time with the Mike's birth parents, when their abuse first drew him out. Where did he make a mistake to give Mike such an impression? Was it a mistake he still made now?

He was too exhausted to scream when the doorknob turned again. Mike's eyes caught his, and the two remained quiet, watching each other without movement.

"Let me guess," Mal finally said. "You want to talk."

Mike gave a single nod.

Mal made a disgusted noise and turned his head. "I'm tired. I don't want to talk to you." He rested his chin in his palm, doing his best to radiate disinterest. From the corner of his eye, he saw Mike step forward and take his seat anyway. He really should have gotten rid of that thing, or taken now to push the spikes back up. If only he had the energy to care right now.

"Something made you this way," Mike said. "I want to know what... I'm going to keep trying until I find out what."

"There's nothing to find out," Mal said in a flat tone. "I'm just a violent asshole. That's all there is to it."

"If I could find out why, maybe I could help you."

Mal's eye twitched. "How many times do I need to tell you I don't need or want your help?"

"It's my responsibility as the original-"

"So this isn't about me. It's about making yourself feel better. I don't even matter unless it means you can earn yourself some brownie points. Good to know." Mal's hand gripped the armrest of his throne, pretending it was Mike's neck. Couldn't he just _shut up_?

"You're right, I haven't been very good at leading the system... I've been pretty selfish in ways... I managed to reach an understanding with the others, but I was too scared to try with you. I just locked you up here. I shouldn't have done that, and I'm sorry. I'm trying to make it up to you now. Better late than never, right?"

"Do you really think sorry is going to make up for this?" Mal asked, waving a chained arm in Mike's direction. "What is this, some inspirational movie? I forgive you, then you get to walk away feeling all warm and fuzzy? Even if I did forgive you, I bet you wouldn't let me out of here. It's not like I'm going to turn myself around. Hell, now I'm even more in the mood to go destroy things. Maybe go after Zoey. Just out of spite."

"Yeah, you're right... I don't know how to handle that," Mike said. "Are you sure there's no way we can compromise?"

"Of course not," Mal said. "Like I said, I'm a violent asshole. There's no changing that. I don't see a problem with that, but you clearly do. It's why I got forgotten about. I don't fit your little narrative of how people are supposed to act, so I got ditched. The end."

"Why?"

"There you are with that word again. Mind speaking in full sentences?"

"Why are you so violent? What made you this way? Was there anything I could have done to help you?"

"I'm telling you, there's no why!" Mal said with a raised voice. "I just _am!_ I always have been! Some people are just fucked up, and I'm one of them. And I wouldn't change for anything."

"We went through a lot when we were younger," Mike said. "I know you weren't happy about it, it's why you got us away from my birth home..."

"So you're saying you think that has something to do with it?"

"It seems likely."

"You think I'm still bitter about that?" Mal's breathing picked up as his rage once more boiled.

"I wouldn't blame you if you were," Mike said. "I am, too. I always will be. But I've tried to move on. I want to help you move on, too. Everyone else has made progress, so maybe you can, too."

"I'm telling you that has nothing to do with it!" Mal snapped. "I'm just who I am! There's nothing to come to terms with, nothing to fix! I could have had some spoiled childhood where I got everything I ever wanted, and I'd _still_ be an asshole!"

"But then you wouldn't exist," Mike said. "You're only here because of the trauma we went through."

"Yes, that's right, you made me as your living shield. I only exist because you got sick of being punched in the face, of being called a piece of shit, of strange adults taking advantage of you, so instead you made yourself some imaginary friends to take the pain for you. And I was supposed to be totally okay with that, to just go along with your wishes and do whatever you said, even if it meant suppressing what I wanted."

"And why is it that you wanted to be violent?"

"Jesus Christ, always back to that!" Mal said. "There's no reason, _no reason!_ That's the only answer you're getting from me!"

"Why can't you open up?" Mike asked, finally showing some frustration of his own. "I promise, it's okay! You can admit that it hurt!"

"I'm over it, Mike, and I'd greatly prefer if you stopped rehashing the past! It's _over!_ "

"You can't just bury things. I got hurt by burying things. But now I'm moving on, and I want to help you move on, too-"

"I moved on when we were kids!" Mal insisted. "By the time we were in juvy, I'd moved on! _It's over! I don't want to think about it anymore!_ "

"Mal?" Mike asked. "Are... are you crying?"

Indeed, the corners of Mal's eyes had started stinging. " _Shut up!"_ he screamed. " _Shut up! Get out!"_ He didn't even have the presence of mind to put up the barrier to hide himself from Mike's view. "Stop coming up to my tower to talk about pointless shit that doesn't matter! I don't need to think about the past anymore! It's over! _It's over!_ "

Mike backed away from Mal's tantrum, but Mal was so lost in old memories that he wouldn't have lashed out at him anyway. For once, Mike wasn't the one he was pissed at. " _Fuck you, Nico!_ " he screamed, finding his mental state regressed back to childhood. " _Fuck you, Becca! You're both monsters,_ _and_ _I hope you both fucking die for what you've done to me! And once you're gone, this won't happen to me ever again! I'll become a bigger monster than you_ _ **ever**_ _were! Nothing will touch me again!_ _ **Nothing!**_ " Mal collapsed into his throne, his throat too sore to continue screaming. He looked up, and through his blurry vision, he saw that Mike had left.

Finally given privacy, Mal held his face in his palms and sobbed.

* * *

"If you open that door I'll fucking kill you."

The doorknob turned much earlier than Mal expected. Mike sure had some nerve, coming back after what he did yesterday. At least last time he had the decency to stay away for a few days, but this time he didn't even give Mal twenty-four hours of peace. He also didn't obey Mal's warning, for the door opened again without hesitation.

"Do you have no self-preservation?" Mal asked.

"Can you kill me?" Mike asked, honest instead of sarcastic. "I think the system might collapse if I died... I don't know if any of you would survive that."

"Oh yeah, the world revolves around you," Mal snapped. "I forgot about that. Should I start calling you King Mike now? Maybe God? Would that make you happy, oh lord and ruler?"

"Why can't you talk to me like an equal? Just once?"

"Why, why, why!" Mal said. "It's always questions with you! And as for why I don't see us as equals..." Without a word, he shook the chain attached to his arm again. "So, why are you back? Do you want to keep asking why I'm such a control freak again? Was watching me cry yesterday too fun for you to resist?"

"I don't think I need to ask about that anymore," Mike said. "I... got a pretty good idea of it yesterday."

"Goddamn it... I didn't mean it, you know. It just slipped out. None of that meant anything."

"You don't need to lie to me," Mike said as he sat in his chair. "You can tell the truth. I won't tell anyone. Not even my doctors or the other alters. I'm doing this to try to help you move on."

"There's nothing to move on from. I told you that," Mal said, a bold lie he knew Mike wasn't buying. "Are you going to ask more 'why' questions until I get angry again?"

"Today I'm not wondering why for anything," Mike said. "Instead I'm wondering how. How you can do all this."

"How?" Mal asked. "Sometimes with a rock. Sometimes with fists. Stabbed some people with a pocket knife in juvy once. That was fun until they took it off me."

"That's not what I meant," Mike said. "Don't you have a conscience? Doesn't it bother you?"

"It really doesn't. That one, you can believe," Mal said. "It sure as hell didn't bother your parents to treat us the way they did. So why should it bother me?"

"You can't mean that-"

"Of course I can," Mal said. "Even with all the lies I've told, I really mean this one. I don't regret a single thing I've done. I mean, why should I? It's kept us alive all this time, hasn't it?"

"There's got to be some regret, Mal. Give me some. Anything."

"You want me to lie for your sake?" Mal said. "Now it's my turn to start asking why. How would this help you?"

"I've been feeling pretty guilty recently," Mike admitted. "About a lot of what you've done. Some people still blame me for what happened during juvy and _All Stars_... I know you had a lot to work out back then, and maybe I wasn't the most understanding or helpful, either... I've been thinking, if I could understand all this, maybe I could work toward fixing it. Isn't there any regret? At least a little? Any desire at all to change?"

"Not at all," Mal said. "Ask me a million times, and the answer will always be the same."

"Why?"

" _Stop asking that!_ You think I'm going to apologize for defending myself? Why do I have to be the better person here? I get treated like shit, and now I'm supposed to turn the other cheek for your sake?"

"Mal, it was over a decade ago! Nico's _dead!_ I let it go, and I want you to let it go, too! I don't want to keep one of my alters locked in here, it's not right, but if you can't let it go there's nothing I can do!"

"I'm not doing anything for you, Mike! I'm not doing anything for anyone! No one ever helped me! I'd say after what I went through – after what _you_ put me in front of – I've earned the right to be a dick to people!"

"Can you really sleep at night, knowing everything you've done? People could have died because of what you've done to them!"

" _Good!_ They probably deserved it!"

Mike took a deep breath, his own eyes beginning to well with tears. "Is... is there really nothing I can do to help you? Nothing I can say to change your mind?"

"Absolutely not," Mal said. "If that means you're going to leave me into this tower forever, then fine. At least I'm not betraying myself. You're the weak idiot who keeps trusting people even after they hurt you. I'm the smart one."

"No," Mike said as he stood up. "You're the stubborn one. You're the one stuck in the past. You're the one who can't see outside himself. You always call me selfish, but you're the one asking me to compromise what I believe in, with no sacrifices of your own. You told me I needed to grow up, but you're still stuck back when I was a kid. I wanted to help you. I wanted all my alters to work together, to not have to lock someone away. But..." He took a shuddering breath as the tears rolled from his eyes. "But if this is the only way to protect the ones I love... then I guess I have no choice. Maybe someday things can be different... maybe someday I can help you through this... but I can't help someone who doesn't want it. At least... at least I can say I tried. Goodbye, Mal. I promise I won't bother you again. At least I've figured some things out... I guess that's all I expected."

Mal remained wordless as Mike walked out the door. He kept his promise; he didn't return any time soon. Mal was left completely alone, just as he wanted.

Was that as he wanted?

He scoffed to the uncaring walls, desperate to wipe from his memory every single interaction he'd had in the past few weeks.


End file.
